Page 147 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Adriana did not move from where she stood, even after most had drifted away and the body had surrendered entirely to ash.
She watched the flames in silence, mesmerised by their terrible beauty, wondering whether this was how it would end for all of them—devoured by fire, reduced to smoke and memory.
The thunderous beat of wings tore her from her thoughts as the wyvern launched itself into the night sky, its roar splitting the dark. Adriana blinked, startled to realise the temple grounds had emptied. Only the king remained… and the High Priestess.
King Ozul stepped before her.
He did not speak at first. He merely lifted his hand and let Kage’s ring fall into her open palm.
The metal was still faintly warm.
‘I cannot keep it,’ he said at last, his voice hollowed out by grief. Detached. As though some vital part of him had already followed his son into the flames. ‘I cannot carry it and be reminded each day that Kage is no longer with us. Will you give it to Kai for me?’
Adriana closed her fingers slowly around the ring, sealing the promise without words. She nodded.
The king placed his broad hand upon her shoulder and gave it a single squeeze before turning away.
Adriana kept still, glancing back towards the dark ash now lifting into the wind, scattering Kage Blackburn across the dark skies of his homeland.
Gone.
She turned to leave but halted.
The High Priestess stood upon the temple steps, motionless beneath her shrouded eyes. Watching.
If she was capable of watching.
Adriana felt that familiar prickle beneath her skin, that unsettling sensation that the priestesses saw more than they should. More than anyone ought to.
Without another glance, Adriana hurried away. The wind that carried Kage’s remains surged against her, as though urging her back towards the castle, away from the temple.
Away from the Priestess.
Awayfrom truths better left undisturbed.
War should never be excused. It is cruel, and there are no victors. Only survivors that rewrite history with their memories.
Tabitha Wysteria
Ylva had been asleep for far too long. When she finally stirred, her back throbbed and her legs protested sharply from the awkward curl she had been forced into. Waking was an ordeal in itself, made worse by the absence of light, by the endless dark pressing in around her. There was no dawn here, no dusk. No way to measure the passing of hours.
Only stone. And silence.
Ylva groaned softly, and on the other side of the wall Arden chuckled, the sound warm despite everything.
‘How do you manage?’ she asked, her voice quiet and worn thin. She was so very tired, tired of the darkness, of the waiting, of the constant strain of survival.
‘I’ve had years of training, little wolf,’ Arden replied lightly. ‘We used to tell each other stories to pass the time. Close your eyes and go somewhere else.’
‘I do go somewhere else,’ Ylva muttered, rolling her achingneck and thinking of those strange dreams where she wore white fur and ran beneath a dead sky. ‘I’m not sure it’s much better, if I’m honest.’
‘Then let me tell you a story,’ Arden said, cheer threading through his tone. ‘Close your eyes, little wolf.’ A beat passed before he added, amused, ‘Close them, Ylva.’
She scowled into the dark. ‘How did you know I hadn’t?’
‘I’m Black Lotus. I know everything.’
She swore beneath her breath, which only made him laugh, a sound that felt like sunlight in a place that had never known it.
